


Hens in the Foxhouse

by NauticalWindmill



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Body Modification, Breast Fucking, Deepthroating, F/M, Hand Jobs, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Teasing, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26105830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NauticalWindmill/pseuds/NauticalWindmill
Summary: Facing a seemingly insurmountable mission, five Team Rainbow operators must go undercover, but bite off a bit more than they can chew.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	1. The Stage is Set

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are copyright of the Ubisoft Company. This is my first fic, so feel free to message me with suggestions and/or questions. First chapter is story setup, porn stuff starts in chapter Happy reading!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Facing a seemingly insurmountable mission, five Team Rainbow operators must go undercover, but bite off a bit more than they can chew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All characters are copyright of the Ubisoft Company. This is my first fic, so feel free to message me with suggestions and/or questions. First chapter is story setup, porn stuff starts in chapter 2. Happy reading!

Hens in the Fox-house

Years of CCTV footage, wiretaps, and intercepted manifests had revealed the nerve center of a major chemical supplier for the white masks. A once dilapidated refinery had been revived, yet not in its intended purpose, according to the representatives of the shell corporation that owned it. Much of the mundane chemical equipment had been hollowed out, leaving an industrial cavern the size of a small hangar, making room for the blinding lights, pounding speakers, and flashing floor-tiles of an industrial, seedy nightclub in the beating heart of Berlin's nightlife scene. The shaded back rooms were curtained off for the important club guests, but for the true VIP's of the club, those who knew what the building's real purpose was, they had hideouts, hybrid bedrooms/offices that housed vital intelligence of their armament of the white masks. With white mask activity mounting, the intelligence in those rooms was vital, to be acquired at any cost.  
Harry flipped through the documents he'd prepared while the briefing was occurring in an obscure corner of Hereford base. In a case that had evaded Team Rainbow since before his time as six even began, a window was opening. He had to hand it to the chemists, they had created a fortress that was simultaneously hiding in plain sight and armed to the teeth. Bouncers were the least of an insertion team's problems, mercenary guards with full body armor and assault carbines lurked in the darkness, abandoned buildings that would need to be swept for snipers, an internal power generator, and steel shutters on every door and window would rebuff any assault, or at the very least stall out a tactical team for long enough to burn any documents and wipe any drives.  
A subtle entry was the only way in. Sighing into his coffee, normally a mission so clearly leaning towards stealth could be handles by the likes of Nokk, Caviera, or Vigil, but the nightclub's proprietors had taken care to stonewall any possibility of that approach too, guard patrolling on randomly generated paths, motion sensors, floor tiles that would sound the alarm when stepped on, laser grids pulled straight out of an action movie. Electronic warfare was a risky option at best, even with some of the worlds best hackers on Rainbow's roster, the analog portion of the chemist's business would be nestled in safes, not to mention the fact that Harry had seen missile silos with less impressive firewalls.  
No, the only way to infiltrate the refinery would be to make sure the wardens of the building never even knew they were being hit. With an undercover infiltration being the best option, Six had gathered operators suited to the task, done an initial briefing and awaited their objections, suggestions, and insights for the op. Harry may have considered himself one of the foremost tacticians in the murky arena of paramilitary counter-terrorism, yet when it came down to high-risk operations, he simply couldn't abide by sending valuable agents into the lion's den without gleaning all he could from their battlefield expertise.  
So he sat in his office, hoping the squad he had assembled would see the task through, Harry had the utmost faith in his operators, yet this was a fortress that even his predecessor failed to breach, a failed op would cost countless lives at the hand of the white masks, the lives of his operators, and years of hard-earned progress. Even a partially successful op could still spell disaster, as the core security system of the entire enterprise was in essence a glorified shell game. Rainbow had no idea what information was stored in what room, so if even one safe-room went untouched the white masks could recover in time. Harry needed a singular, decapitating strike, and he had just three days to pull it off. His pensive silence was shattered by the trill ringing of his office phone.  
"Six's office... Yep... Okay... Good luck."

*Fifteen minutes earlier*

A florescent light tube flickered in the corner of the Hereford basement briefing room as Finka paced in front of the gathered operators. 

"So as you can tell this will be an undercover op. We'll be infiltrating the club under the guise of party-goers and make our way the the various safe-rooms in the rear of the facility."

"So guessing by the dossier and who's gathered here 'make our way back' refers to a honeypot-style infiltration." Twitch inquired lifting an eyebrow.

"That seems to be the best option for maintaining our covers, but feel free to change your play as needed"

"So if the plan is seduce our way back I get why Ela and I are here," The Korean hacker said, twirling a braid "but why are we bringing the older models?" Grace shot a shit eating grin at Mira, the Spanish operator being a decade her senior.

"Perhaps on the off chance any of the arms dealers prefer grown women as opposed to girls still wearing trainers." The engineer returned a venomous glance to Dokkaebi, who recoiled slightly, bringing a hand over her admittedly modest chest.

"Can we try to act professional for one meeting," the Russian intoned, "besides, I have something to aid in that category, seeing as the club will be stocked full of girls whose bodies are not battle-hardened."

"Wait, is this why you told me I needed updates to my nanobots?" Ela tilted her head at Finka's odd remark, "What did you inject me with, slow acting aphrodisiac?"

"In a sense yes, I've tailored the nanobots' surge to grant a temporary increase to... visual impressiveness as opposed to combat skill. The current iteration has a half-life of about twelve hours, but I can bring the effect back to full potency when needed." 

"Hold on, you said its got a half-life," Twitch looked over herself like she expected to find a third arm, "nuclear engineering isn't exactly my area of expertise, but doesn't that mean the effect will take a long time to disappear fully, if it completely disappears at all?" 

"Technically yes, the effect will be slightly noticeable for several days, but by the end of a week you'll look like your old self again."

"I'd like to circle back to you injecting us with weird tiny robots," the Polish defender said, leaning forward in her chair, "and what exactly do you mean by increasing visual impressiveness? I like to think I'm pretty impressive as is."

"Well there's always room for improvement," Finka carefully decided to avoid responding to her breach of medical ethics and instead focus on the second of Ela's points. "As far as the exact impact of the nano-machines goes, I can't offer exact qualitative data, but my trials have so far always resulted in an increase in breast and posterior size, an enhanced libido, improved plasticity of orifices, and an increased production of sex-linked pheromones. Any other questions?"

"Just one," Dokkaebi raised her hand high, putting on the mask of an attentive student, "Has anyone ever told you you're a mad scientist?"

"Many times, now we all have a plane to catch."


	2. Activating Surge!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Finka's nonomachines come to bear. This chapter was written mostly between 11pm and 2am, so I apologize for any errors. Enjoy!

Disembarking the plane in their civilian clothes, the Rainbow insertion team looked to all the world like a groups of friends on vacation. After making their way to the hotel no more than a few blocks from the club, it was evident a new wardrobe was in order, as a life of paramilitary combat left little room for clubbing. Once a suitably swanky clothing store had been located, the time for Finka's creations to be tested.

"Before you go trying anything on, let me activate the surge," Finka glanced around making sure there wasn't anyone near the changing rooms. "Duck into a changing bay, we wouldn't want any prying eyes to see the effect in progress."

Slipping into the slightly claustrophobic stalls, the operators steeled themselves, still not entirely sure what Finka's concoction would bring. The first evidence of the nanobots' progress was a gradually building feeling of warmth radiating from the torso. Grace leaned against the beige plastic as she was hit by a sudden wave of light-headedness as her vision blurred slightly. Tossing a glance toward the mirror, the Korean attacker watched as her loose tank filled taut, the spandex in her sports bra fighting a loosing battle against her expanding chest. The slender operator marveled at her suddenly increased bust, cupping the undersides of each boob, feeling each yielding mass, biting her lower lip as her fingers sunk into the supple flesh.

A few scant feet to her left, Ela's bout of light-headedness was interrupted by a sudden tearing sound, as her leggings sundered, torn by the growth of her already impressive ass, the soft skin bulging out from between the threads of polyester still valiantly holding the shreds of leggings together. Craning her head over her shoulder, the Polish defender peeled her ruined leggings off, a sly smile pulling at the edges of her lips as she watched her widened rear jiggle enticingly as the tight garment was removed. She bent over, placed her hands on the slim bench, and shook her fat cheeks, a clapping sound resonating from each impact.

Finka, who had dosed herself multiple times took the changes in stride, taking a moment to admire her fine work in the mirror, gazing at her newly enhanced curves before a mischievous smile crept across her face, and she thumbed the activation button a second time. The effect was immediate, her baggy, XL t-shirt tented outward as her breasts expanded again, fully lifting the front of the shirt clear off of her toned stomach. Her loose sweatpants pulled taut around her prodigious backside, the suddenly tight fabric producing an enticing camel-toe outline. A sharp ping in the stall across from her indicated that not everyone was as prepared for the second dose.

Twitch's blouse was already stretched, so when the second surge hit the strained buttons popped off and careened into the full length mirror as her rapidly inflating bust broke her bra, her now doubly expanded tits exposed to the air. Her nipples quickly hardened in the gently air-conditioned atmosphere of the store, the stiffened, pencil eraser-like nubs extending off of her pink areolas. The tough denim strands of her distressed jeans were a stout barrier, yet began to rip as Twitch's plump thighs tested the jean's tailoring to its' limits. The zipper-reinforced crotch of her jeans dug harshly into her enlarged mons, darkening the front of her pants to a deep navy as lubricant seeped out, desperately readying her snatch for action.

The French robotisist wasn't alone in dampening her bottoms, Mira had already been pawing at her heavy tits through her top when the nanobots reactivated, sending jolts of pleasure through her matronly frame. A gout of juices soaking through her panties, and covering her doughy inner thighs with a slick sheen, rivulets running down onto the bench beneath her. Stunned by the orgasm that had just overtaken her, the Spanish defender was oblivious to her shirt being torn in two by her now massive breasts. Each well larger than her head, capped with inverted, mocha-colored nipples, and creating a deep valley of inviting cleavage. Once she had shaken off her pleasure-induced stupor, Mira was faced with the awkward reality of being near naked and splattered with her own juices from the waist down.

"Um... Finka, please say you thought ahead enough to bring a change of clothes for us."

"Don't worry, just sit tight for a little bit, I'll find something fitting for all of you. Oh, and is everyone doing alright, any abnormalities?" Finka's mischievous smirk returned as all four other operators shouted from behind their locked doors, all in various states of undress. 

After nearly half an hour of acclimating to their new bodies, the team's keen hearing was greeted by the sound of Finka's steady gait. The Russian attacker passed her selection of evening-wear through barely-ajar doors to her fairly annoyed teammates. Once the four novice augmentees had cleaned themselves off and dressed an impromptu fashion show occurred. Each operator was decked out in various pieces of club-wear that when paired with their enhanced physiques, passed well over the line of innocently flirty and was sure to catch any onlookers attention and keep it there. A high-slitted mini-dress for Dokkaebi which showed off her perfectly toned legs and displayed a clear absence of underwear. A sheer lace tank paired with an equally transparent mini-skirt on Ela revealing the G-string underneath, whose rear string was entirely swallowed up by the Polish defender's massive rear. Finka herself sported a form-fitting open-backed dress, granting alluring hints at her curves while keeping them just barely covered. Twitch's "high beams" were on direct display in her V-necked halter dress that ended well above the knees, showing off her newly-thickened thighs, just daring party-goers to sink their hands in to find out if she felt as good as she looked. Last but not least was Mira, who after a little cajoling, emerged from her changing room in a leather mini-skirt and a cross-wrap halter top that provided an alluring blend of cleavage and under-boob guaranteed to drive any of her dance partners wild. Once the envious clerk had rang up their items the operators bid her farewell they stepped out into the late-afternoon air decked in the most risque outfits any of them had worn in their lives.

Numerous catcalls were whistled their way on the walk back to the hotel, with many a group of young men literally tripping over themselves as their eyes were far too occupied ogling to be bother to watch where they were going. By some odd byproduct of the enhancement, the brazen attention felt amazing to the group, who opted to take a few wrong turns to prolong the experience. On a few choice occasions an operator would reciprocate the forward flirtations: Dokkaebi silenced a particularly loud wolf-whistler with a lewd hand-gesture and a quick bulging of her cheek. In addition to walking with extra sway in her hips, Ela made a habit of dropping her handbag and taking her sweet time picking it back up, granting anyone behind her a perfect view of her shapely ass. While waiting for a crosswalk, Mira noticed a few men failing to subtly examine her chest, so she slowly stretched her arms up and behind her head, alleviating some back pain, but more importantly thrusting out her breasts to the point that the outline of her areolas could be seen through her top. The gathered operators had been expecting to steel themselves for the vulgar task ahead, but standing in such exquisite outfits with lewd nanobots coursing through their veins, the group was excited and eager for the night to come.


	3. A Night Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now ready for the infiltration, our band of operators take the night to... blend in  
> (see end of chapter for notes)

Technicolor lights bled from the dilapidated outer walls of the club, as the thumping base shook the air around even those party-goers still waiting outside. The Team Rainbow operators were by far not the only ones looking to attract attention, yet they were certainly the most successful in that endeavor. Ela had already found confident hopeful who saddled up behind her, bringing his crotch flush against her ample rear. Wiggling back and forth, her smile widened as she felt the bulge in his pants grow and nestle between her buns. At the front of their party, Twitch was acting very curious as to the contents of the bouncers clip-board, leaning in to give the bouncer a tantalizing view down her deep cleavage. The gaggle of stunning women were waved in in no time, finally entering the fortress-club that had stymied the counter-terrorists for so long. 

The countless hours of siege tactics were quickly forgotten as the ladies scattered across the nightclub, some tearing across the multi-colored dance floor, others settling onto open stools at the bar, rubbing more than elbows at every opportunity. Finka, Dokkaebi, and Ela immediately found themselves well received on the dance floor, as throngs of party-goers vied for their attention, getting friendlier by the song. The captivating bounce and sway of their bodies drew their seedy companions closer and closer, each operative grinding flush against their partners, enjoying the hardened bulges pressing against them. While the nano-bots were doing there best to whip Finka up into a frenzy, she had exposed herself to their effects enough during development to keep her wits about her better than her compatriots, that being the case she noticed something being whispered to the DJ in just enough time to get an uneasy feeling, but was slowed down enough by the deluge of mechanically-induce hormones to not quite act on said feeling. Her moment of confusion was quickly dispersed as the lively music of the late evening turned more intense, a pounding bass kicking in as a mosh began to form. Swept away by the tide of dancers, Dokkaebi found herself tossed about by the dense throng of bodies, coming to "rest" sandwiched between two broad-shouldered men, her augmented breasts pressing flat against a muscled back, her exposed thighs slick with sweat fro various dancers. As people jumped and shoved from every angle, Grace was in constant contact, her augment-addled mind no longer able to discern, or care, between the regular contact of the mosh. and the greedy-handed groping that was becoming more and more frequent. Ela, who had truly been in the thick of it, was shoved to the forefront of the floor, pressed against the front of the stage, her increased bust softening the force pressing hard behind her. The Polish defender matched the rhythm of the crowd, tossing her hips this way and that as the man behind her jumped, bracing against the stage as he smacked back down against her rear. It wasn't long before she felt a trickle between her legs mix with the rivulets of sweat dripping down her shapely form. While the crowd had come off it's fever pitch of activity, the blaring music and close-packed bodies were amping Ela up to no end, so with all the possible haste and grace of a woman flushed with military-grade aphrodisiacs, Ela's charcoal g-string was shed, her groin exposed to the warm club air, out in the human humidity of the packed dance-floor, kept "hidden" only by the lacy mini-skirt that flipped about with every bounce of her hips.

Over by the bar, Twith and Mira were being inundated with free drinks, as countless shots and sparkling glasses were passed to the buxom women. Apprising a potential mark, Twitch accompanied a burly man with tattoos down both arms, the sleeves of his onyx tank. Settling down at a booth with some other suspect characters, each chiming in about the beautiful woman on their friend's arm. Squishing tight against her new-found beau, Twich felt his course fingers splay across her smooth, exposed thigh, feeling the callouses of his hand slowly trail up her leg. Taking his buddy's voluptuous friend as a challenge the man across from the French roboticist left for the bar, soon returning with perhaps the only woman in the club who surpassed Twitch in sheer assets: Mira. Sitting back down, the man opted for laying an arm across the Spanish defender's shoulders, resting his extended hand on the outer swell of Mira's massive chest. The men cracked wise for a while, their voices barely audible over the roar of the club's music, but soon their voices dropped to a low, conspiratorial timber and they began to glance about as they stood. The operatives stood as quickly as they could, slightly off balance from all the drinks, but fearful of losing a lead. 

"Don't worry babe, I'm not gonna leave you behind," the fist man said to Twitch, taking his time gazing up and down her luscious form.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? The boss'll be..."

"Shut up," Before his friend could even finish his objection, "If you're that worried you can leave your girl here, I'm sure one of those idiots on the dance floor would be happy to keep her company. Besides, I can think of plenty of things to keep them occupied."

Guiding the pair of women back to the bar, a quick nod to the bartender had them passing back into an innocuous looking storeroom stocked with innumerable heavy, glass bottles and gleaming shelves of crystalline glasses, which Mira's companion began sliding to the side, the metal shelf squeaking against the worn concrete, slowly revealing a passage downstairs. The low grinding sound was suddenly interrupted by the clinking of heavy bottles knocking against each other as Twitch was pressed against the solid metal shelf, her date firmly pressed against her, one hand laced through her brown hair, the other lifting the hem of her dress, raising it above her hip and grabbing a large handful of her augmented rear. Driving his tongue into her mouth, the fleshy appendage probing about her mouth, tangling with her tongue, the pair panting into each other's mouths as they pulled back for air. 

"Alright, alright, let's head down, we don't want the noise to attract attention, c'mon, time to get a room."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been quite some time, uni's been kicking my ass recently, but here we are. I intend to let things really go off in chapters 4+ so hang in there for just a bit more. As always sorry for any grammar mistakes, and thanks for dropping by.


End file.
